


A Heady Night

by kikibug13



Category: Mansfield Park - Jane Austen
Genre: Dubious Consent, F/F, Misses Clause Challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-24
Updated: 2011-12-24
Packaged: 2017-10-28 00:26:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/301730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kikibug13/pseuds/kikibug13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Miss Mary Crawford might show decided preferences for Edmund Bertram, but she really wouldn't mind having the <i>pair</i> of cousins... with time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Heady Night

**Author's Note:**

  * For [likeaduck](https://archiveofourown.org/users/likeaduck/gifts).



> This piece was not intended to come through as this far into the dubious consent category, but it is very difficult to imagine the Fanny Price from the novel as willing to these kind of attentions. So this may stay as a treat and I will try to write a separate story with less physical attention and more decided agreement of the characters to be in any situation.
> 
> If I do not succeed, I hope this is still acceptable.
> 
> As always, many thanks to my beta, [Anna](http://archiveofourown.org/users/adsartha), and VERY MERRY HOLIDAYS!

_I shall be most happy to play to you both_ , Miss Mary Crawford had said, and she had meant it in more ways than one.

Of course, that had been too soon for her to have had any _designs_ on either of the cousins, having firmly set her mind on _Mr._ Bertram. But there had been simple delight in the conversation with Edmund, and Miss Price caught her attention. Taken together with having already been mystified by Miss Price herself, and now with the solicitude which Edmund offered her, the pair of them made a very attractive object of observation.

Or contemplation, as she realised when left to her own devices the following morning.

Edmund was no Tom Bertram, of course, although he was naturally no less pleasant-looking; but Miss Price, with her quiet looks and gentle manners was positively pretty. And in a way which contrasted with her cousins, too, much more akin - and yet different - from Mary's own beauty. Fanny's disposition was quite the opposite of her own, to be sure, but she was so _reliable_.

In the days and events that followed, Mary's proximity with Edmund improved, and she could see, sometimes, how that grieved Fanny. Yet at the same time she could see Miss Price still admiring her own self, both in looks and spirits, and wishes which she had not indulged since she left London stirred in her. In this place, they would likely be frowned upon - but who would Fanny _tell_ , if she were to go ahead with it?

Edmund, of course. The answer was clear, despite the slight distance growing between the cousins on Mary's own account. Naturally, the solution to that problem was in the thought itself. The closer Mary bound Edmund to herself, the less Fanny would be able to trust him, or even, indeed, he her. It was a fine scheme, and all perfectly fitting under the unassumed affection she had for the man to conceal the budding desire for his charming cousin.

Or maybe because they fit so well together and she would like them both. But while anything socially acceptable with Edmund would have to be... rather specifically sanctioned - or it would become very, very obvious - with _Fanny_ , she could indulge.

It was one of those evenings when the Crawfords dined at Mansfield Park; and one of those evenings when headache led to a glass - or two - of wine being pressed into Fanny's hand by her cousin, before she excused herself and went up to her own room early.

Tonight, Mary waited briefly and excused herself, too. Her steps were quick and light, the advantage to being so small and to having learned the house already, even to learning where Miss Price's room was located, and she caught up with Fanny just before she had reached her attic room's door.

"...Miss Crawford," Fanny started as a turn of the stairs let her see she was being followed. "I am sorry, if you needed something and I left too early..."

The words were muted out as their mouths met, Fanny's eyes widening in shock as the girl stiffened, before Mary focused on the kiss and a few touches, and with a soft sound, the innocent young Miss Price melted against her, kissing softly and shyly back until they were both breathless. The surprise returned as thinking reasserted itself, but Mary had known it would. Her fingers rose to press against Fanny's lips, and the timid young woman complied out of reflex even as she was starting to shiver.

"You feel so much, don't you? Never indifferent, sensing something with each of us only of words and actions. But how many people ever touch you, my dear Fanny?" Her finger caressed the curve of Miss Price's neck - it gave her the satisfaction of hearing breath catching. "Oh, yes. Touches." She leaned closer again, lips not quite touching Fanny's for now. "Let me show you what they mean." She brushed a feather-light kiss on those lips. "I won't do anything you won't like, I promise. And nothing will be known."

Oh, she knew how heady the mix of wine, headache, attention, and this kind of proximity would be on a girl like Fanny Price; Mary Crawford had been well taught. She never let go of the delicate girl on the last few steps to her room. As soon as the door was shut - and bolted, Mary made sure - behind them, she was kissing her again, deeper and needier, the kind of kiss which could make even her forget about goals and wants. Her fingers were tracing the delicate skin on the inside of Fanny's arm, and the girl was nearly swaying, overwhelmed by the general assault on her senses.

Just as Mary wanted her. Turning ache into pleasure, and using the unsteady state to confuse her mind into not admitting this ever happened to a soul, even perhaps to herself.

And Mary would keep the pleasure of opening Fanny's eyes, clouded by wine as it would be, to one of the finest pleasures in life. _She_ wanted to marry so she could easily enjoy the opposite side of it; but for now, this did not matter.

Muslin whispered down their bodies and to the floor; frail as Fanny was, Mary half-guided, half-carried her to the bed. She set to completely undressing her, only pausing to kiss her mouth again, or that spot to the side of her throat which extricated a gasp and a pause in the efforts to retain control of the situation.

When her caresses reached the inside of her thigh, Fanny finally found strength enough to complain feebly. "Miss Crawford..."

"Mary. Tonight, it should be Mary."

"M-Mary." Fanny swallowed. "I think... no, I know this is not right."

Mary stretched alongside her, propping an elbow on the pillow beside Fanny's face and looking down on her, the other hand lightly caressing the now exposed front of Fanny's body. "No, perhaps not. But I shan't hurt you, and you will like it, believe me."

Fanny looked away, resulting in in Mary's fingers caressing down the line of her jaw before taking her chin and gently, if lightly, turning her face back up. Then she ran the back of her knuckles down the line of her throat, along the middle of her front, oh so slowly.

"Are you sure you want me to stop?" she breathed into Fanny's ear.

"No... yes... I don't know."

That was more resistance than Mary expected. Honey-sweet voice, she murmured, "I will only teach you. You will have your maiden's honour when we are done." She kissed the spot before the ear where the jaw began. "Trust me. Please."

The deep dark eyes were looking up at her when she moved to see her face, at the silence. She held that look, slowly rose to kneel and smiled her most charming smile. "Do you not find me pretty, Fanny Price?"

"Oh... I _do_!" Ah yes, this was the path behind little Miss Price's defenses. Focus on someone else.

"Then let us see how beautiful I am, shall we? Can you do that for me?"

Pause, Fanny's fine brows wrinkling in confusion, and then a very slight nod.

What Mary _wanted_ was to taste the sweetness of the girl's first orgasm, make her squirm with pleasure and then explode, back arching up and dark hair matting into the pillow.

What she _led_ Fanny Price into doing was pleasing her. Fanny was a good student. Once the focus was shifted away from herself, she relaxed, and her fingers and lips - and tongue, if less assertively than Mary usually liked - were like soft touches of fire against her skin. Against the most delicate spots. Sometimes Mary needed - for the sake of what Fanny was trying to do, and for her own satisfaction of pleasing the girl anyway - to show some of the touches and motions and caresses; they were quickly repeated, and adjusted for. She had known that Fanny paid attention; now she was finding out just how closely, as her breath was coming up quick and shallow, the muscles of her thighs almost twitching with the eagerness to finish, _soon_. Barely enough awareness was left to her to know that Fanny was pleased and aroused, too, oh yes, just perfect.

Mary arched back, hair long-since-loosened and caressing Fanny's damp skin, and reached as though to support herself in the new position. Her fingers found the wetness she expected, and more; the touch made the girl whimper, but she didn't stop what her tongue was so close to completing. By the time Mary's fingers found the spot she was seeking, her motions were almost jerky. Fortunately, there was not much more to be done with actual touch - just as the waves of pleasure coursed through her, she felt Fanny moan into her nether lips and her fingers dig into her thighs, both of them helpless and shivering for a moment before Mary collapsed down, halfway on top of the younger woman.

Tears were running from the corners of Fanny's face, when Mary could focus again; she wasn't sure why. But when she nuzzled against Fanny's lips, the girl kissed back, warm and accepting and resigned and lost in the whirlwind of sensations.

"Did you like this?" she whispered.

All Fanny could seem to do was nod. She looked so young and vulnerable right then; Mary shifted and held her close. A moment of confusion followed, almost radiating from Fanny, and then she crumpled, curling up against her like a foundling kitten.

Mary stayed until the girl cried herself out and fell asleep. Then she gently disengaged herself, dressed, assembled her hair in a disarrayed version of her previous style, and quickly, quietly descended down the stairs, going out of the house from one of the porches and then returning from the entrance closest to the evening room, eyes bright and cheeks red, the perfect picture of somebody who had been walking in a stronger wind for a little while.

For this company, that was enough.

Fanny did not speak of what she now knew to anyone. As Mary had thought she wouldn't.


End file.
